i imagine this to be one of those books that speaks to everyone a bit differently. for me, having just returned from new zealand, it was a great escape back to the place i miss so much. from the author: what a pity, she thinks, as she drops the bottle at the woodpile’s edge, that we humans don’t have aesthetically pleasing skeletons. none of the elegance and beauty of your humble mollusc. just a knobbily serrated jumble, headbone connected to de breastbone etcetera etcetera. on the other hand, maybe just as well… something might decide to start collecting us…